Scars
by Mikichu
Summary: After James and Jessie have a fight, James has been acting all strange. Jessie knows something is definitely wrong- but what? She doesn't even remember what she had said! Jessie's POV. Rocketshippy hints and a possible Rocketshippy ending.
1. I Don't Understand

The night Meowth died was the night hosting the worst fight I ever had with my best friend.

Meowth had been killed as a brutal reminder that the Boss did not take failures well. I remember the horror James and I had shared as we just watched him lie there, bleeding, eyes staring sightlessly at some light we did not see. The Boss had shot his tiny, feline heart. I, to this day, am still sickened by the smug look he had on his face. Then, he just dismissed us, not even caring to clean up the mess. We didn't take any chances; we bolted out, fighting tears. The other agents had heard the gunshot. I wonder if they were disappointed that there wasn't three of them.

Our fight had been over something stupid, like always, but then it really intesified. We started blaming each other for Meowth's death, each accusation stupider than the last.

"_**You** made the plan!"_

_"**You** made the mecha!"_

_"You said the motto wrong, James! What kind of **moron** forgets the motto?!"_

_"What's wrong with spicing things up, Jessie? Maybe if you were a little bit **creative **this wouldn't have happened."_

Eventually, I got sick of it. I was so angry, I had tears in my eyes, on my cheeks. I shouted something. I was so angry I didn't care -and didn't care to remember- what I said. Whatever I said, though, it must have really hit James, because after I said it, James just stopped dead in his tracks. There was now a dark, hurt look in his eyes. Then he lowered his head, and slowly walked away.

:::

"Prepare for trouble," I sighed, as sick of hearing this motto as the twerps were.

"Make it double," James muttered with equal enthusiasm.

"Why don't we just skip that?" Twerp suggested, smirking. "Pikachu! Thunder..." His words seemed to dwindle in his throat. "Where's Meowth?"

"Ready to launch a surprise attack," James retorted. I could tell by the strain in his voice that he was fighting the waves of sadness still swallowing both of us whole. "Just shock us and get it over with, all right? And hopefully I'll crush my skull on a rock and die."

I gave James a look of pure confusion. "That's a little morbid, don't you think?"

James just shrugged.

The twerps looked equally as puzzled. Eventually, they just shrugged and Pikachu did his thing.

After we landed, I immediately confroted James about what he had said earlier. "No big thing," he replied, as though all he did was trip on something or misspeak. "I just had a little sad slash morbid streak. No biggie."

I was terrified that it was more than that. But James' answer had reassured me enough to stop worrying about it, and so we set up camp. "Jessie?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Should I make a fire or will it be warm enough to sleep without it?"

I thought for a bit. "Winter's coming on pretty strong," I replied after a moment. "You should make a fire."

"As you wish," James nodded. And with that, he set off into the woods in search of kindling.

:::

It was dark before James returned, plenty of wood in his arms. "About time," I yawned, sitting up in my sleeping bag. "I thought you had gotten lost."

"Never," James chuckled, his sadness apparently gone. "I know this forest like the back of my hand." Then, he looked at the back of his gloved hand and exclaimed in mock surprise, "Hey! That's new!"

I couldn't help but smile. Watching as James arranged the stones he had also found into a circle, I noticed something- a large amount of blood, fresh, on his sleeve. "What happened?!" I asked, staring at his forearm.

"Wha?" James looked up for his work (which was now rubbing one stick against another stick). "Oh, that?" he said casually, glancing at the sleeve. "I just got attacked by a wild pokemon. It was weak."

"Looks like it clawed like something fierce."

"I'm fine."

"Let me see."

"I said I'm fine."

"James-"

**_"I'M FINE!!"_**

I leaned back a little, taken aback by his shouting. James glared at me for a moment, then returned to rubbing his sticks together. And, miraculously, it made a spark.

:::

As the fire licked greedily at the burning branches James had collected, I lied in my sleeping bag, wondering what was up with James. Why had he yelled at me? That gash from whatever pokemon that hurt him must've went real deep. So why didn't he let me see?

I looked over at my partner, curled up in a sleeping bag right next to mine (literally. Our sleeping bags were touching.). He moaned a bit and turned over, facing me. _Looks like he's asleep, _I obverved, taking a finger and wiping that one little persisting strand from his face. The strand, of course, fell right back. I tried again, tempted to cut off the offending strand.

"What're you doin'?"

"Huh?" I looked at James, who had apparently just awoken. "Oh. Nothing."

"Why is your hand on my face?" he asked, sitting up in his bag. The fire burned on behind him, bringing even more intensity to his bluish hair.

_And the blood on his arm, _I thought grimly. "Just seeing if you were warm enough," I lied, sitting up with him.

"Jessie?"

"Yeah?"

"That night Meowth died..." I was taken by surprise; we barely ever spoke about things like this directly. "What were we fighting about?"

I blinked, thinking hard. "Do you mean how it started out?"

"Yeah."

I looked down, trying to recall. Eventually, I admitted, "I don't know."

"Oh," James murmured.

"Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering." I could tell he was lying. I had known him long enough to know when he was lying to me. But ever since that fight, we had drifted apart a bit. Was that little drift, over time, going to expand into a gorge of lies and secrets, we on opposite sides? The thought shook me so much I forgot what we were even talking about, and so I lied down in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes.

"It's pretty out tonight, isn't it Jess?" James had lied down in his sleeping bag as well.

"Wha?" I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. What must have been zillions of tiny stars flickered in the night like lightbulbs running out of power. "Yeah," I breathed. I'd never seen so many stars in my life.

"We found Meowth on a night like this," James murmured, obviously pained by the memory. "A little stray kitten, shivering in the moonlight." He sighed. "I don't understand it, Jessie."

"It's all that rat's fault," I spat.

"No it's not," James said, surprising me (and I think himself, too.). "Pikachu is just defending his master and himself. Would _you _want to be captured and experimented on? Would you want your best friend to be taken away from you?"

"No," I replied. _But are you already being taken away from me? _I wondered. _James, I don't know what's going on with you, but something is definately wrong. And whatever it is, I'm going to find out what. _And with that, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. But before the darkness claimed my mind, I could have sworn I heard some sort of soft, quiet sobbing.

:::

By the time I woke up, the fire had burned out. The pile of firewood James had gathered still stood by the firepit. James, I saw, was still curled up in his sleeping bag.

"Get up," I called sharply, arising and standing over James. When he did not rise, I repeated my call and kicked him in the ribs.

He winced before he opened his eyes. "Unbelievable," he murmured, a look of slight annoyance on his face. "I wake up this morning and the first thing I see is your face." He sat up and yawned. "That's gonna leave me feeling funny all day."

I was a little stung. That remark reminded me of the sarcastic, contrary James I had met when we first teamed up (remember the Pokemon Journals: Just an Innocent Victim! thing?). "Yeah, you're not exactly a pocket full of sunshine yourself either," I retorted.

"At least I look decent," James snorted, standing up and rolling up his sleeping bag. "Come on. Into the balloon. We have some blasting off to do."

I merely nodded, not wanting to probe him further. He was obviously in a foul mood and egging him on was just a bad idea. Rolling up my bag and throwing into the balloon (which had just conviniently shown up out of nowhere- hey, it's anime.), I jumped in with him and leaned over the side, looking for Twerp.

James pretended to push me over the edge, grinning. I slapped him and his sarcastic alter-ego seemed to evaporate and he was back to normal. "Don't even joke about that!" I snapped. "Suppose I did fall out?"

"Then I'd catch you."

"And if I slipped?"

"I'd jump out after you."

That must have been the first time ever that James had, in under six words, stunned me into silence.


	2. Secrets

I don't think I even need to say that Twerp, once again, has beaten us and made us blast off. I absolutely hate that brat for it, but what can I do? As long as he has that Pikachu, we might as well just give up. But if we did that as Meowth had...

_Am I next?_

The thought pressed its way into my mind, forcing me to eventually scream. It was around eight at night and we were back at home base. I sat in our room, alone, trying to force the bloody thoughts from my mind. Reaching for a tranquilizer (not the kind we use for pokemon, the anti-stress things.), I accidentally opened James' dresser drawer instead of mine.

I looked inside, my nosyness overtaking me. In there was some sort of small journal; not the one he had been writing in when we first met. I flipped through it a little. It looked like a poetry book. I only looked at the titles, I swear, and even the titles seemed a little... well... depressing.

**_Catch Me... Don't Turn Away... Breathe No More... Sapphire... Abused... Silver Roses..._**

Silver Roses? I let my eyes continue down the page for the first few lines.

_Walking slowly,_

_Here in the rain._

_Afraid._

_Alone._

_Nobody is by my side,_

_But what do I care?_

_They are nothing._

_I am nothing._

To depressing, I thought. The poems were done in James' handwriting, for sure. What on earth was going on?

**_Let the Darkness Come... Beautiful Oblivion... Lies... Claim My Soul... Broken... Even in Death... Haunted... Crimson River... Chains..._**

I heard footsteps coming down towards the room. I jumped and put the book back, slamming the drawer just as James came in the room.

"What were you doing?" he asked, his tone challenging.

"I- I was looking for something and I opened your drawer by mistake," I lied.

"You didn't look in that little book, did you?" I could tell James didn't want me to see it.

"No."

James looked relieved. "Good."

"Why don't you want me to see it?" I pressed.

"I... uh... it's just a personal thing. Promise you won't look?"

"Yeah. Sure thing."

"Thanks."

He sat down on the bed I was lying on, right next to my hips. "Jessie?" he murmued, just loud enough for me to hear.

_Is he going to..._

"Why did you say what you said, Jessie?" he asked suddenly.

"What did I say?"

"I think you know," he spat. "If you aren't going to give a reason I understand," he said, his voice cold. With that, he got up and walked off.

:::

I had never had a nightmare cryptic as this before. There was James, standing there, glaring at me. Then, he disappeared, and knives, thousands of knives, came racing at me, cutting my arms. And my blood- it was not red. It was blue and green. And the weirdest thing is, when the knives were cutting me, all I could think of James and his cold, cold glare. When I woke, it was close to midnight.

James was not in his bed.

I wondered what was going on. I pulled on my coat and stepped outside. And there, bathed in moonlight, was James. He was walking into the forest. Keeping a close distance behind him, but not too close, I followed him. I knew, deep inside, that I was doing the right thing.

A little ways in, he stopped. My heart pounded. Did he hear me? Was he going to turn around and see me?

He just sat down for a while, as if waiting for someone. Finally, a redheaded figure came through the bushes. James smiled; I sensed it. "I thought you weren't coming, Misty."

I jammed my fist in my mouth to keep myself from screaming. Misty? TWERPETTE?! What was going on?

"I wouldn't stand you up, James. Are you alone?" Mis- TWERPETTE asked, looking a little worried.

James snorted. "Heck yeah. Jessie sleeps like a rock. I swear, if I didn't know better I'd say she was an onix."

I had to jam my fist in my mouth again at this.

"Okay then. Come on. It's a beautiful night." Twerpette smiled and looked up at the starry sky.

James nodded and got up, and they started to walk off. I followed them, careful not to step on anything. James sighed. "Listen, Misty, I made up my mind. I'm going to do it tonight."

Twerpette looked shocked; whatever James was talking about, it wasn't anything pleasant. "James..."

"Well, she doesn't care, and you know it."

_Is he talking about me?_

"Nobody does," James continued. "My_ parents_ hate me, Misty. My own parents! Just because I am who I am. I can't help it. Besides-"

Twerpette silenced him by stopping and putting her finger on his lips. "I care," she whispered. "I care."

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?!"

"Pikachu-"

"Don't even start with that," Twerpette cut him off. "Just because of some... some... RAT, we can't be friends? That's quite stupid."

"But..." James stopped as he looked at Twerpette again. "Yeah." He sighed. "I should be greatful. After all, you're the only person in this world who cares about me and somehow I find a reason not to accept that kindness." He took Twerpette's hand- I thought for a terrifying that maybe they wanted something more than "friends". But, I realized, Twerpette was only 14. James was 18. At this point, the age difference was too much... wasn't it?

I decided I'd heard enough. I raced back to Home Base, and opened James' dresser drawer. I took the book and set it on the bed. Nothing else was there. But there was a drawer below it.

I pulled it open, and sat there, shocked. There, lying the the drawer, was a knife and -I still can't believe this- an unloaded gun with a single box of bullets. I picked up the knife and studied the blade. My stomach turned as I saw what was there on it.

Blood.


	3. Slashes

I knew immediately that I had to take this knife and confront James. Running back through the trees on the path I had taken before, I came to a clearing where Twerpette and James had a fire going. Twerpette was looking up at the sky in awe, and James was warming his hands by the fire.

"So have I stopped it?" Twerpette asked, probably referring to the "thing" James had mentioned earlier. "Cancelled it?"

"No," James shook his head sadly. "It is, however, postponed until further notice."

Twerpette smiled. "That's good enough for me." She moved from her current spot to beside James and rested her head on his shoulder, yawning. "I'm so tired..."

"Me too," James agreed. "I wrote a poem about you, you know."

"You did?" Twerpette sounded more bewildered than flattered.

"Yeah," James grinned, handing Twerpette a rose. (I almost wanted to cry or tackle Twerpette. James was MINE.)

"What's it called?" Mist- I mean, Twerpette asked.

"It's called 'In The Heart of the Flame'," James explained, resting his head on Twerpette's and looking up to the sky as she was.

"Can you recite it?" Twerpette asked hopefully, obviously eager to hear it.

"I only wrote it tonight," James laughed, giving her a goofy grin. "I don't know it by heart yet."

"Then recite another one," Twerpette urged. "I love the poems you write."

"Have you heard 'Abused'?" James asked, his tone indicating he was more than willing to share his work with her_. Her_. I looked down, tears in my eyes. I knew this wasn't like me, but I couldn't controll it_. Her, and not me. James, why don't you trust me?_

"No," Twerpette beamed, shaking her head. "Recite it! Please?"

"All right," James laughed. "Just stop begging me, I- oh, don't give me that look!" He continued laughing, and once he forced it down, he started reciting at perfect speed:

**We are different,**

**That is true,**

**But there's one thing,**

**I share with you.**

**I share it with all,**

**But I won't confide.**

**We have one thing in common:**

**A secret we hide.**

**The goth wears black,**

**Winter to fall.**

**She stays alone,**

**Headbutting the wall.**

**When she goes home,**

**She gets abused.**

**The goth wears black,**

**To match her bruise.**

**The cheerleader there,**

**She has it all.**

**Guys chase her,**

**For her they all fall.**

**She runs out the door,**

**To her boyfriend's car.**

**Who is he?**

**The football star.**

**When they go out,**

**She gets abused.**

**She wears makeup,**

**To hide her bruise.**

**The jock is the sports man,**

**Every girl's dream.**

**He plays for,**

**The hockey team.**

**He glides down the ice,**

**Stick in his hand,**

**His movements perfect,**

**Strategy planned.**

**When he loses a game,**

**He gets abused.**

**He body-checks others,**

**To share his bruise.**

**The cutter, depressed,**

**Wears long sleeves,**

**Hiding her cuts.**

**She walks in tight jeans.**

**She lets out a glare,**

**To everyone,**

**Nobody knows,**

**What's going on.**

**When she holds her blade,**

**She is abused.**

**She slits her wrist,**

**To drown her bruise.**

**The outcast is shunned,**

**Left out of the pack.**

**They call him names,**

**And turn their backs.**

**He hides in books,**

**Dives into their world,**

**And is amazed,**

**As the story unfurls.**

**The outcast is "ugly",**

**"Nerd", and a "freak".**

**But these names are not true,**

**These are lies that they speak.**

**When he goes to school,**

**He gets abused.**

**He goes to the darkness,**

**To shadow his bruise.**

**Lastly, there's me.**

**I don't know what I did,**

**To deserve all of this.**

**I'm only a kid!**

**Mother's divorced,**

**But she's rewed.**

**Father, angered,**

**Swings at my head!**

**When I visit Father,**

**I get abused.**

**I cry salty tears,**

**To wash away clues.**

**I want no one to know,**

**I get abused.**

**I want to wipe,**

**Away my bruise.**

**We all get abused,**

**At least once.**

**To some it is normal,**

**To some not so much.**

**We all get hit,**

**We all get bruised,**

**We all get shunned,**

**We all get used.**

**We all are victims.**

**We're all abused."**

Twerpette just sat there, her mouth open. "That was... amazing," she breathed.

James looked at her. "Do you really think so? That one of the very few rhythm poems I've tried."

"Is your mother really rewed to someone else?"

James shrugged. "How should I know? I don't even know if they're my real parents," he joked, and he and Twerpette started laughing. I blinked back more tears.

James sighed after a while. "Do you still cut?"

Twerpette shook her head. "No. You?"

"Natually," James replied grimly. He pulled up his (still bloodstained) sleeve. I couldn't believe my eyes.

There, carved into the skin like gruesome writing on pale parchment, stood various cuts and slashes, mostly up near his wrist. But in the midst of all the slashes, there was one word that made my breath rush from my lungs faster than a Rapidash could run:

**_JESSIE_**

Twerpette looked up at James sadly. "Why do you do that?"

"Cut? You know why."

"No," retorted Twerpette cooly. "I mean, carve her name into your arm. She hates you, doesn't she?"

_No! _I thought desperately. _NO!!_

"I still love her," James moaned. "I don't know why, but I do, and if she hates me I hate myself. That's just plain old 'James Thinking'," he sighed, running his ungloved finger across the scabs. "I could take all the beatings. I could take all the lectures and the blasting off. But when we had that fight..."

"James," Twerpette murmured, putting her hand on James' arm in a gesture of comfort, "what did she say?"

James whimpered, and a tear fell from his cheek. "I quote, word for word," he began, and sucked in a deep breath. "**Why couldn't Giovanni have shot you instead, James? I would have been better off if he did."**

Silence.

I was about to run up to James and shake him, tell him that it wasn't true. But then, the scene of the fight flashed through my mind, and the realization came down on me like a heavy black blanket:

He was right.


	4. Admittance

I couldn't fight my enotions any more. I sank to my knees, sobbing heavily but quietly, guilt and agony washing over me like a crimson wave. _I'm sorry, James, _I thought. _I didn't mean what I said. I'm always angry. I never think before I say things. And now I've driven you to this. I'm sorry._

James and Twerpette froze, looking this way and that. Finally, after a long silence, James called in a bewildered voice: "Jessie?"

What? Had I spoken my thoughts without realizing it? I looked up and decided that since he already knew I was there, I might as well come out. "Yeah," I choked, wiping my face. "It's me."

Twerpette stared at James in shock. "How could you let her follow you?!" she demanded.

"I didn't know!" James protested. "Jessie," he said, turning to me, "what the hell are you doing here?" His voice was firm but not angry. It actually sounded somewhat relieved. "And..." he looked at the knife in his hand and his face turned white as a sheet. "Is that my knife?"

"Yes," I answered, my voice still a little off from my earlier sob-fest. "Yes, this is your knife. I also noticed you had a gun, too. Planning on shooting twerp?" I jibed sarcastically.

"A GUN?!" Twerpette exclaimed. This was obviously news to her. "Why do you have a gun?!"

"I told you, Misty, that I was going to blow my own brains out tonight." I hated the way his voice sounded: so casual, as if he were talking about going shopping rather than committing suicide.

"I thought we had planned to jump off Maiden's Peak together!" Twerpette sounded very disappointed.

_"WE!?" _I shouted, disbelief stronger that even the guilt I felt right now consuming my brain. "You two made a suicide pact?! What reason could YOU possible have, Twerpette?!"

"Well, for one, you can't get her friggin' name right," James said cheekily. "It's Misty. Not Twerpette."

"Whatever."

"Ash left me," Misty explained. "Off for some slut named Dawn."

"The Sinnoh Twerpette?!" James snorted. "Even _he's _too good for her."

"I know, right? Blue hair?! I mean, really, that's just stupid. Uh... No offence."

"None taken, Misty."

"GUYS!" James and Twerpette had a very annoying habit of gettiing lost in their own conversations. "James, I'm sorry about what I said, okay? I really didn't mean it! You have to stop this-"

"I TRIED!!" James shouted, making Twerpette and me reel back a little bit. "I tried to stop, I really did. I knew that I was hurting myself. But I just couldn't stand it... I couldn't go without it... I'm addicted." He started to cry a little. "I might as well be on crack or something. It's just as addictive and just as horrible. I almost passed out once, Jessie!"

"When was that?"

James looked down. "... When I was writing your name in my arm."

"That'll scar, you know," I pointed out.

"Do think I'm not aware of that!?" James shouted, his eyes burning with a new, ferocious intensity. "I know it'll scar. Then your name will be branded on my arm forever until I die."

"...Whyyyy exactly do you want that?"

"Because I love you."

It took me (and James too, by the look of it) a full five seconds to register what had just been said. I stared at James, and he stared at me.  
Then, without even thinking, I thrust forward, eyes closed, and kissed him. I could tell James was surprised, but after not long, he relaxed and enjoyed it, our tounges waltzing, exploring, tasting.

I began to get shivers. _What the hell is he... Oh. My. God._ And, knowing what was bound to happen, I reached for his belt and pulled it off.

I heard Twerpette as she ran away, also knowing what was going to happen.

I heard a catty snicker. "_Well, finally. And ta tink, it took dis much just ta get yous twos ta get togetha."_

Meowth, even in death, never failed to make sarcastic comments.

:::

The End.

Well, that ended up longer than planned. I suppose now I'll work on Blasing Off... to ThunderClan! (or BOTC) now. Until next update!

Mikichu


End file.
